


Friends Will Be Friends

by ursoself-satisfying (catbusfurrever)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Christmas Party, Doubt, Engagement, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Holidays, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Angst, Love Triangles, Marriage, Multi, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, New Years, Oblivious, Unrequited Love, but you love our man deaky, drunk, roger wants you real bad, soft angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 01:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17255072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbusfurrever/pseuds/ursoself-satisfying
Summary: You looked absolutely stunning this New Year's Eve and here you were all alone with him instead of John. Roger has a decision to make.





	Friends Will Be Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Roger centric (unrequited), officially John x Reader, sfw
> 
> A/N: based on a request from my tumblr @ursoself-satisfying!!! first angst piece yikes,,, this was supposed to be fluffy but appearently I cant do fluffy n now its angsty so thats fun,,, kind of a sequel to Thank God It’s Christmas, except now its new years yeet but u rly dont need to read anything beforehand this is an be a stand alone like all my fics theyre inherently connected in the universe in my head but not meant to be read in any order   
> ALSO note that this was written in line one night the whole thing done in one take so its not uh,,,,,, gr8 rip
> 
> Warnings: none rly, language ofc, some emotional Rog,,,,, Brian n Fred r like mom n dad for a sec,, unrequited love n angst ;;((((
> 
> linking my playlist for my last fic cus it works here too!!! listen here ;;;)))  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/criceloni/playlist/7CoaeajkS0DyoCcJvimPQH?si=xO-Vv-1mTT6x9YTkST5XfA

“Well, I don’t know, really, when we got here I was dragged off by some girls congratulating me,” you took a long sip of the pink champagne, bubbles rising as you threw your head back to finish it before continuing, “I didn’t even know them, actually.” After the drink, this being your- Well, you couldn’t remember but you’d had quite a few and you were starting to feel it. You inhibitions began to escape you, slowly buzzing out your ears like flies. Your senses were still decently sharp but everything was emitting a soft haze. You shook your head and looked at the man beside you with a snort. Roger laughed a bit as you said this, looking down at his bunching pants and smoothing them out then taking a drink of his own still full glass of the same drink. The party behind you was muted through the glass you sat beyond. When you turned to your friend, you could see his reflection in the window, over the bare backs of various guests pressed against the surface. Blinding lights of every color were magnified and you turned away from them after a moment, keeping Roger in your peripheral vision. It was odd but nice that he would sit with you like this. He was a party man yet here he was overlooking the streets and the sky from the chilly balcony with you after rescuing you from a rather unseemly conversation with some giddy female attendants in matching schoolgirl uniforms that barely covered their asses. It occurred to you Roger approached the group with ulterior motivates but in the end he left with you and that warmed you in the bite of the winter outside.   
His eyes were caught on you for a moment like knit on velcro and he had to pull himself away as you held out your hand and admired the heavy stone shining on your left ring finger. Anyone could tell it was new to you with the way you fidgeted, spinning around your digits and sliding it up and down whenever you spoke. “It’s kind of funny, in a way,” you started, turning your hand so the metal band would reflect the bright lights from the party behind you, “that so many people found out so quickly and are having such- they’re all being so-” lips flattened into a thin line, you searched for a proper word to describe the situation you were in.   
When you couldn’t seem to find an adequate adjective, your friend offered his help. “Jealous? Neurotic? Insufferable?” Roger leaned towards you, scooting closer on the wrought iron bench, one eyebrow raised and a goofy grin. You leaned towards him as well and with a roll of your eyes, hit his arm playfully and shook your head.  
Was he wrong though? You blinked and laughed at him, “Be nice!” you scolded, to which the drummer responded with an innocent raise of his open palm and an exaggerated frown. “They’re all excited for me and, don’t get me wrong, I’m excited, too- I’m beyond!” You shrugged your shoulders a bit unsurely, “but- Oh, I don’t know.”   
Your gaze was cast down and you sat in silence for a moment, your environment sinking into you. The sights and smells became clear in your pause, filling your nostrils with the traveling scents of burnt sugar and wet soil. Licking your lips before beginning again, you kept up an act, refusing to show any doubts that had seeded themselves in the pit of your stomach. It was easy for you to talk about your love for John, as you truly did love him with all your heart, mind, and soul. Even though you were scared of the change and uncertainty of what this future might bring, you were sure he would comfort you. So you spoke of him to fill in the empty air where you thought your enthusiasm should be, truth in every word but the conversation lacked substance. “He’s wonderful. He’s everything and I couldn’t live without him.” Roger didn’t look at you, or at least you thought he didn’t. It was like he was looking past you like you were there but he could see something more as you continued.   
Roger watched you intently when you went silent. He didn’t speak. It looked as though you needed some quiet, or as much quiet as one could get at a trademark Freddie Mercury party. You seemed deep in thought and you looked beautiful in it. Slightly slouching and shivering now and again, you stared aimlessly ahead of you. Fireworks boomed overhead but they didn’t seem to shake you. The only stillness in a mile radius existed around in you right then.  
Looking out over the moonlit garden of the mansion, glowing blue and green in the cold night, layers of snow draping the bushes like thick wool blankets and sparkling like the stars that shone brightly above, Roger sighed. It was a gorgeous view, the fireworks over the scene reflecting off all the fresh white flakes gathering in the yard, creating an effect akin to what he imagined people leaving on the Titanic saw. The woman beside him kept up her chatter, going on so sweetly about how in love with her future husband she was and he could practically feel the admiration on his cold exposed skin like lashes batting against him. The hairs on his arm rose when he thought about it, her lashes on his skin, long and soft and accompanied by something else entirely. His unhelpful imagination warped her loving words into whimpers and moans he wished he could hear every night, but every thought was partnered with weighted guilt and he shook them from his mind.   
Her words still found their way to his ears like bluebirds in the spring settling on a freshly painted windowsill. “It’s a lot of attention, and I don’t mind the attention, you know that, but he does and I worry about him.” Though she makes jokes, her tone is laced with concern that sends a pang to Roger’s heart.   
“You really love him?” He started but interrupted himself, catching himself before he got into a conversation he wasn’t sure he could handle hearing in his over-emotional, half drunken state. “That’s a stupid question, isn’t it?” He looked to you with a smile, though the difficulty of the action was seeping through his teeth like a syrup. With his elbows supporting him as he leaned on his knees, he finished his sparkling drink and chuckled softly. He had inched closer still and now the two of you were touching at the hip. Closeness wasn’t uncommon or uncomfortable given the proximity the band often existed in. You were included in that as often as you’d been with the band in these places, the backstage dressing rooms or clubs and trailers.   
The man’s breath hitched when he felt a soft feathery object fall upon his shoulder. It was your head leaning on him, hair nuzzling into the crook of his neck. God, he couldn’t fucking stand it. He held still, still as the marble images around the edge of their view, not wanting you to move, so desperately not wanting to disturb you. He wished- He wished so many things were acceptable to do right then, to do to you, to tell you- “So, uh, where do you think your boyfriend’s gone off to now?”   
The words fell out like a cough, rough and unwanted in his throat. He could never grow to hate the man you were to marry. In fact, he probably loved him nearly as much as you did, though in a different way, of course, but it hurt him to see you with someone else, anyone else. It hurt more knowing this feeling had only grown the more you were together and that the only reason you two were ever together was that you were with John. Without John, he never would have met you, but because of John, he would never get to experience you in any way he fantasized. Of course, you didn’t have a monopoly on his mind, it would be unfair of him to claim that as he had other women, other lovers, and girlfriends for long periods of time. You, though, you were always there, both physically and just as a thought in the back of his head.   
You interrupted his spacing out when you moved your head off him. He suddenly ached for the contact, both for the warmth and the connection it brought to him. The worst part was the departure of your scents, the soft exotic fruits of your shampoo washed off the pads of his jacket when you sat up to speak. You turned to look up at the pink and orange sparkling fireworks erupting overhead, echoing through the empty vastness of the spacious snow covered green. The snow absorbed the reverb, though, making the ordeal slightly less startling. Roger’s round, sunken eyes were on you as your own eyes traced the path of the falling ashes, still glowing as they rained from above. The sparks landed softly on the ground at your feet and in the light hair of your current companion. He watched as bits put out in your own tousled waves, crowning you with a dirty halo like an angel bringing forth the chaos of a clean slate.   
Your growing smile sent another jolt to through the musician’s vessels to his heart. “I imagine he’s probably been given a few too many drinks at this point and has danced himself to the point of passing out and is asleep on a futon somewhere.” The laugh that followed was like music to his ears, like a symphony of love and a bittersweet taste of an unattainable treasure. “It’s exactly what I expected him to do- It’s what we planned actually,” you laughed again, “but I’m just not there with him while he’s doing it.”   
Your breathy chuckle died out and you wrapped your arms around yourself with a shiver, the winter around you finally finding it’s way beneath your festive but not protective clothing choices. To be fair, you hadn’t known nor expected to be spending the whole of the New Year’s party outside and open to the forces of nature. Roger nodded as you spoke, still not looking at you. The weight of entering the new year with the unending potential, i.e. expectation, of marriage made you anxiously already and your friend acting so strangely right beside you only made you feel worse. It was a happy holiday, though, for clean starts and letting go and you weren’t about to burden him with these thoughts of yours. He sat back and turned to you slowly, placing a delicate hand on your knee. His soft lips opened to speak when a familiar voice bled through the glass, loud enough to reach over the resounding music still playing, which meant it could only be the host himself.   
“Alright, you wonderful people! Midnight is almost upon us so grab yourself a partner! We don’t want to be entering the new year alone, do we?” A crowd roared and booed in response and they all clamored to find someone to hold as they made the journey into January 1st. The two of you looked back at the commotion, then at each other. The space between you was pregnant with things unspoken and uncivil, the child of want and need and lack of better options. Lust and longing brewed on Roger’s end and confusion on yours. Whatever he had wanted to say seemed to slip his mind as your eyes met and for a moment he just looked at you in awe.   
There went his heart again, fiddling with his emotions in ways it shouldn’t, hurting as he turned away from you. He checked the time on his watch and it was only minutes until the strike of midnight. He had two choices here and neither was going to absolve him of all his unhappiness, but one had more appeal than the other. Fuck, he thought, was he really this awful of a person? Removing his lingering hand from the woman’s leg, which he was so thankful you so kindly didn’t mention, he stood and looked back at you. Your attention turned to him in his movement and you looked up at him, eyes glimmering in the light of the flashing night sky. He’d imagined looking down at you like this many times, perhaps in a bit of a different situation, but often when he was alone, on tour, in the shower. Here you were, though, tipsy and clearly preoccupied, plagued by second thoughts on your commitment, he assumed, alone with him and you were beautiful. Glowing like the garden you gazed out at, brighter than the moon over the snow and the sprinkling sparkles of celebratory fireworks above your heads. Time was not his friend or it would have allowed him to meet you before his bandmate did. He supposed, though, with great melancholy disdain, that one couldn't change fate and he had determined it must have been fate between you and John. The two of you were perfect. His options at that moment were to give into himself or to not fight fate and he chose-  
“C’mon, then, love, you heard the man. It’s almost midnight and you should be spending these first and last minutes with the love of your life. Well,” he winked, “the other love of your life.” His hand was extended to you and you took it graciously, standing up with hurried blinks, the booze you drank earlier rushing to your head. You caught yourself on him as your feet failed to hold you up straight. His arms wrapped around you as you collided with his chest. He swore under his breath, knowing this was God’s punishment for all the tantrums he’d had. His body was warm on your and you hummed at the exchange of heat, killing him a bit more. Roger could barely move, desperately not wanting to let you go but knowing he had to. He pushed you back up and held you so you stood before him. Your deep breath woke you up, the sharp night air fressing in your hot, alcohol coated lungs. You could barely hold your head up to look him in the eye.   
The percussionist could see the sudden wave of extremely inconvenient tiredness roll over you and he prepared himself for the contact he craved, knowing it was temporary and for the good of his friends. “Let’s find your hubby-to-be, huh? Get that New Year’s kiss.” He said, scooped you under one arm to guide you into the maze of people that was the party. Upon entering, the man holding you did his best to keep you close, for your safety partially for his own satisfaction. To you, everything began blending together. You simply felt exhausted and you suspected it to be some physical manifestation of emotional fatigue after all the circles you ran around yourself pondering the unnecessary worries of marriage. Fingers that weren’t your dug into your side and you had to catch your breath everytime you felt palms press against your form and embrace you in order to guide you through the mass of excitable horny couples preparing for the bell to toll.   
“Roger, what’re you doing, darling?” Fred’s voice came from behind and Roger jumped.   
“Fuck, Fred!”   
“Roger,” the host said again, unfazed by his reaction and moving to face the pair, “what are you doing?” His tone was more pointed this time and he crossed his arms, brows furrowed at the sight of his arms around the engaged woman. His fingers tapped against his arm and he blocked you from going any further. Your eyes were half open and vision growing blurry but you could make out Fred’s voice anywhere. You were still awake but you were, in the nicest terms, out of it.   
Roger scoffed and rolled his eyes, attempting to push past the singer, lowering his voice to speak into his ear as he passed, “It’s not like that, Fred, I’m finding her John.” Fred lowered his brow still and watch the couple shove through, passing him and heading to the cushioned seats in the center of the room. Fred shook his head, a cocktail of emotions raining over his features. Sympathy, pity, and disapproval all showed through his knowing glance back as he walked away.   
The man holding you shook off the accusatory interaction with his bandmate and, reaching the cluster of chairs, spotted the poor bassist slumped against a wall. His fluffy hair was flat against the plaster wall behind him, leaning his head back and looking absolutely unfazed by anything happening around him. Frankly, Roger wasn’t even sure he was awake, eyes barely slits open. Then all the shit hit all the fans all at once, relative to Roger’s priorities.   
“One more minute!” Someone yelled, and the bodies around him suddenly starting reacting, moving and jumping as excitement filled the air along with the odors of spilled beer and bodily sweat. Cursing, her gripped your slightly more awake form and shuffled towards where your lover was.   
Now more awake than even before your drinks, jostled by the sound immersing you, you pulled back from the blonde holding you. Roger, losing your heat against him, turned back and spoke to you in the form a confused expression, arms raised as a question of why you disconnected. “Be my kiss,” you said, just loud enough for him to hear. You hadn't seen your other half, half awake at the end of the room. The time was ticking down and you were ready to give into booze filled bad ideas instead of overthinking this just as you had everything else tonight. “I don’t even know where John is,” you threw your hands up as you took a step towards Roger, who couldn’t take his eyes off you, “and it’s just you, Rog, he wouldn’t mind.” A smile graced your face with a small laugh, aiming to wash away the awkwardness of the suggestion, though it was meant to be innocent.   
Or was it? Roger shuddered as another crack spread through his heart. Truly, this must have been a cruel joke. Kiss you? No, you only suggested it because you saw him as someone non-threatening and there would be no consequences. You saw him as someone you weren’t attracted to, he thought. True or not, that interpretation of your words hurt him, he hurt himself in thinking it. He wanted this so badly, but you and John were not even 20 ft from one another and neither of you saw each other. Maybe fate- No, he thought again, this wasn’t his place and it pained him to turn you down.   
Without a word to you, the drummer turned and waved his hand in the air, calling your lover’s name. “John! JOHN!” Your hand was slipped into his in the process and together you made it to wherever it was Roger had seen the quiet man. Your face had lit up upon hearing John’s name and you eagerly followed your guide.   
John was pulled from the deep recess of his mind as he stood entranced by the ceiling tiles, assuming you had found friends to party with and he hadn't wanted to intrude. His name was being called by an unmistakenly high pitched voice and he knit his brows, bouncing off the surface behind him to search the bobbing heads of the crowd counting down. A sweatband clad wrist waved excitedly at him and, what do you know, attached to that hand was a certain short-tempered drummer leading behind him-   
“[Y/N]!” John called after you. The second he caught you in his sights, it was tunnel vision and he ran in your direction. Roger led you out of the densest mass and gave you a swift friendly swat on the backside as encourage you to meet your fiance. You squeaked, both at the swat and the sight of your lover. When he reached you, he completely engulfed you and you were left with nothing to know besides him. He was everything to do and every anxiety you had was gone at that moment, disappeared in a poof of smoke. Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, your face in his hair, smelling the drinks on him and loving every second of it. His large hands spread to shield the small of your back and hold you as close to him as possible.   
The countdown began and the hundred of voices throughout the house chanted in unison, “Ten! Nine! Eight!”   
John pulled away enough to look at your face and his own was distressed, “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier, I assumed you were having a good time elsewhere-”  
“I’m always having a better time when I’m with you and it’s fine!” You laughed sympathetically, yelling over the loud countdown, “I got lost in the evening- In everything that was going on, and I-”   
“I’m sorry!” He said, smiling weakly. He was so sweet and soft in the colorful lights melting over him.   
“Four! Three! Two!”  
“Shut up and kiss me-” And your lips collided with his. The clock struck midnight and it was a new year. The cheers around you, throughout the house, were earsplitting and no doubt the neighbors would have complaints, but no one cared. At that moment, everything was wiped clean. There was nothing but new opportunities and potential ahead of them and you finally came to terms with that. It helped to have your future husband caressing you and kissing you with such a passion you thought your lips would go numb. Nothing could have been better than being there in his embrace, you thought, and you mentally thanked Roger for dealing with you, distracting you, and helping you get to this point.   
From behind you, Roger looked on with a smile, but as you two remained connected well past 12:01 AM January 1st, he left the scene. He tried to remember he had a woman, albeit one in a difficult relationship with him, and that he shouldn’t be having those thoughts about you at all. There were so many reasons why you were such a contradiction, so right yet so wrong, and it all made him crazier for you. He stepped back out onto the quieter space of the balcony where he’d been with you before. The cold felt like something he deserved. Not being able to stand to watch you exchange hot, open-mouthed kisses with someone else, though he’d never had one from you, was a ridiculous reason to leave his dear friend’s party, he thought. It didn’t stop him from stepping out, though.   
The party inside died down as people passed out or left and the sun rose early that morning. Roger watched it, dark bags beneath his eyes a sign of his state. He remained outside, at some point having been given a blanket by a drunken guest immediately before they puked and passed out in said puke. The blanket was clean, thank God, and it was the only thing allowing him to stay where he was so long. The sunrise made him think of you, how bright you were. The birds that rose with the daylight reminded him of the harmony of your voice and the warmth he felt made him think of your body against his in any way possible What it year it was already, he thought, losing himself in inappropriate images of you. It was January 1st and Roger Meddows Taylor had started the year without a kiss and with an aching pain in his chest instead. 

BONUS:  
Upon finding himself the only one awake so early in the morning and having nothing to do, the lead guitarist instinctively began picking up. Streamers and bodies littered the floor among the confetti, sparkles, the leftover stick of shattered and spilled sugary drinks surrounded by a dangerous array of broken glass that shone with a misleading glimmer of beauty in the midmorning light. The trails of colorful debris had led him to the sliding glass doors of the balcony that open and closed with a low muffled click. Outside, though, was a sight the tall man hadn’t expected to see. His drummer, small and angry, was sound asleep on the bench coddled in a well-loved blanket. Head thrown back and mouth open, drool sliding down his cheek, he looked like a child and somewhere the standing man’s paternal instincts kicked in. Brian sat down beside the snoring blonde and put his arm around him. He was cold to the touch, the thin cover clearly not being enough to trap the heat to keep him comfortable.   
His long languid fingers played upon his bandmate’s shoulder until it stirred him from his slumber. He jolted awake with a fearful, high pitched string of swears, frantically looking around until he saw the person beside him then proceeded to swat away any contact that had been made between the two of them. Brian laughed heartily and jumped a bit at the tired man’s reaction. “Fuck are you doing, mate?” Roger said, adjusting his posture and attempting to compose himself. He gingerly pulled the blanket tighter around him and shivered, now realizing how cold he was, as the new sun did very little to warm his aching body.   
Looking on with worry in his eyes, though amusement ran through his face, Brian sucked on his teeth as he contemplated what would be the best curse of action in this delicate situation. “Fred told me he saw you with-”  
“Oh, don’t start.” A disgusted Roger scoffed and turned towards his friend. Though he would never admit to the emotion behind his voice, the rings of hurt around his eyes made it clear something painful came from his heart.   
Brian sat back a little, the cold of the metal bench sneaking through his coat and stinging his back. He understood the space Roger occupied, having once been there himself and it all seemed to work out wonderfully, but this, he admitted, was a bit more complicated. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything, as his friend sniffled and wiped at his nose discreetly. He couldn’t hide his quivering lip, though.   
Though he’d pushed him away before. Brian went again to wrap his arm around the drummer, tightly this time so he couldn't be removed, squeezing and rocking him back and forth as a method of comfort. Roger choked back a sob and his eyes wet against his will. He kept face, though, and remained still, staring out upon the bright melting snow of the growing green garden that reminded of so much of her. A rattled inhale preceded a raspy confession, “I love h-”   
“You love John,” Brian interrupted, pretending not to hear what the shorted man was about to say, knowing if he let it out he would regret it and he wouldn’t let his friend make that mistake. “He’s one of your best friends and you love him, hm?” Sitting beside him, the curly mop of long dark hairs towered over his companion’s messy blonde wisps. He looked down at him with a stretched smile, but the other avoided making eye contact. “You love,” Brian sighed, “that he has found someone who makes him so happy. Sometimes they mess up, but don’t we all?” Knowing to raise his brows as he spoke, the guitar player gave his childish friend one last squeeze on the arm then rose and looked out over the greenery below with him. “Don’t h-” He trailed off for a moment, then pushed his eyeline down, turning halfway to the still sitting musician. His hand held his chin in thought before he continued, “Don’t make any mistakes you’ll regret.” The response was thought out and he sends the percussionist a message of sympathy and understanding in his lopsided grin and squinted eyes. With a nod, he exited the balcony, leaving one last pat on Roger’s shoulder.   
Roger took a moment to consider the ominous advice of his friend. He thought of all people to tell him something nice, it would have been Brian, for whom a situation much like his own actually ended well. He was disappointed in what he’d said. He did love John, like a little brother. Aren’t brothers just awful, though? The chilly air dried out his tongue as he breathed open-mouthed, nose blocked with clear snot that he would deny was ever there. The tears he couldn’t stop though. One by one, silent streaks cleared their way down the sides of his face from his soft blue eyes. “Quite the predicament,” he said softly to himself, biting back any unattractive noises that dared to climb up his throat. He let out a final conclusion in a pained smile and quiet voice, “Fuck.”


End file.
